


Don't Teach Me How To Panic

by TheDissappearingAct



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies)
Genre: And like, F/M, The Unknown, and fear, and sadness, hey y'all its like angst, love thaT!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDissappearingAct/pseuds/TheDissappearingAct
Summary: Bob is late to home one day.





	Don't Teach Me How To Panic

Helen looked at the clock and frowned. She had been doing menial tasks around the house throughout the day; washing dishes, rearranging cupboards, and the like. Somehow it all felt... wrong. Despite knowing that they're were women her age all doing the same things, Helen felt like she was too young for this. This shouldn't have been her. But now it was. 

She looked forward to Bob coming home each day. She felt at ease. At least their relationship stayed constant. She tried to cook for him,  _tried_ being the key word. And he would eat it and pretend it was the best thing he had tasted. He hated work and she hated staying home and yet they both talked to each other about how great it was, hoping the facade would turn into a reality. 

It was 3:15 now and Bob was late. She shrugged it off, thinking that he was probably stuck in traffic. She pulled out a bottle of red nail polish and a nail file and began to paint her nails.

Helen now found she had more free time than ever before. She didn't know what to do with herself. So she had begun buying tabloids from corner stores and copying the women in them. It was like a game to her. Despite her general dislike of being a house wife, Helen desperately _wanted_ to fit in. Her super days were gone. She could either love the home life or hate it. 

Helen turned on the radio and checked the clock again. Bob still wasn't home. She was growing worried. 

 _You're just paranoid._ she thought to herself. 

She was going to call his office when the doorbell rang. 

"Where have you been?" she asked, opening the door.

But standing in front of her was not her husband, but Rick Dicker, the NSA agent assigned to their case. 

"I need you to come with me. There's been a problem."

"What?"

"We really don't have time, I'll explain on the way there."

She got into the car. "Is Bob okay?" she asked as he drove.

"He's fine. That's the one good thing about this situation."

"Then what happened?"

"There's been... some complications."

"What sort of complications?"

"Someone figured out Bob's real identity."

" _How?_ "

"I think it'd be better if you asked him yourself while I figure out the fastest way to relocate you."

"Why do we have to be relocated? It's one person you could just-"

"I think you misunderstood me. Only one person figured out he was Mr. Incredible. Countless others saw him commit the act."

"But what did he _do_?"

He pulled into the NSA building, disguised as a telephone book company. "You'll find out in a few moments."

Rick led her to the back of the building into a small room. She found Bob sitting in a small chair and rushed to him. 

"What did you do?" she asked. 

 


End file.
